


Soft Nights

by digitalWaterfall



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, and really really really needed to write some fluff because FUCK this podcast is A Lot (TM), i wrote this after binging the entire podcast in like 3 days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:46:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23730286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digitalWaterfall/pseuds/digitalWaterfall
Summary: Jon and Martin wake up in the middle of the night.“I told you that your part of the plan was to distract Elias, and you asked how you were supposed to do that, and I told you to just figure something out--"“Yes?”Jon turns to face him. “Why was *arson* your first thought?”
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 11
Kudos: 181





	Soft Nights

**Author's Note:**

> It's been...five years, I think, since I've written a new fic? Forgive me if it's rusty. Anyway, it seems like everyone in this fandom is craving warmth and love for our favorite TMA characters, and ya girl is no exception. Enjoy.
> 
> This is set between episodes 159 and 160-- a couple days after they arrive at Daisy's safehouse.

It’s the middle of the night when Jon wakes up. He’s not sure why, at first: the night hasn’t changed, as far as he can tell-- he can hear trees rustling in the wind, and the rumble of waves breaking on the distant shore. He lies still for a few moments, unmoving, feeling Martin breathing next to him. 

Somewhere between one breath and the next, Martin’s breath changes, becoming shallower and less rhythmic, and Jon knows he’s awake. It fills him with a kind of soft warmth, a reassurance he didn’t know he was missing until now-- the feeling of someone sharing the night with him, braving the dark, standing together no matter what literal or metaphorical nightmares arose. 

He wants nothing more than to roll over and hold Martin, to feel his soft and sturdy weight, but he won’t let himself. Martin needs his sleep, and Jon’s body is not much more than a bundle of coat hangers stuffed in a skin suit. He’s rubbish at cuddling, and he knows he’s only gotten worse at it since his humanity began slipping away.

The Eye confirms it for him without being asked, sending him an image of himself: knobby knees curled up, bony arms wrapped around his shins, skin drawn tight over his cheekbones. Jon flinches, stomach rolling; he’s never liked looking at himself at the best of times, and it’s nearly unbearable to do now--

“Jon?” Martin mumbles. “I can hear your teeth grinding. Give it a rest before you turn them into powder.”

Jon doesn’t say anything. Martin sighs and throws an arm over Jon, pulling him close. “For an avatar of the Eye, you’re really into being Lonely. I thought that was my thing?”

Jon makes a noncommittal noise, burrowing into Martin’s chest. Martin huffs a laugh, spitting out a mouthful of Jon’s hair. “Jesus, when did your hair get like this? You look like a hermit.”

“You _like_ it long,” Jon says, pushing his head into Martin’s chin.

“True,” says Martin, threading his fingers through Jon’s hair. Jon leans into it, letting out a soft sigh as Martin’s fingers scratch gently against his scalp.

“Martin,” he says lazily, “remember back before all...this? When we were trying to stop the Unknowing, when we didn’t really know what was happening--”

“I remember, but I’d rather not,” Martin murmurs.

“I told you that your part of the plan was to distract Elias, and you asked how you were supposed to do that, and I told you to just figure something out--”

“Yes?”

Jon turns to face him. “Why was _arson_ your first thought?”

Martin laughs aloud. “Technically, I don’t think it was arson,” he says, sitting up and rubbing the back of his neck. “I think arson’s about the destruction of, like, a building or something--”

“Fine, why was _setting things on fire_ your first go-to?” Jon says.

Martin pauses. “You know-- I dunno. I suppose it was just-- I was tired of being the one in the background, you know? Tim was the funny one, Melanie was angry, Daisy was this badass hunter, Basira was-- well, a cop, and you were...you know…I guess I just figured that if you guys couldn’t stop the ritual, and we all died, then I wanted to go out doing something cool. Something brave...”

He trails off, and Jon looks up at him. He can only barely make out Martin’s face in the dim light of the moon peeking through the windows. But to his non-physical Eyes, Martin is luminous, glowing like a star. Jon can’t take his eyes off him.

“Martin,” he says, “you were the bravest of all of us--”

“Stop it,” Martin tells him, and it’s too dim to see but Jon Knows he’s blushing--

“No. I’m _serious_ \-- you were so scared! I mean, we all were, but you didn’t know what was going on, and none of us were telling you anything and-- at least Basira had police training, and Daisy and I had these-- powers, and Tim and Melanie punched first and asked questions later-- but you, you were scared as hell, and alone, and you fought anyway…”

He grabs hold of Martin’s hands, traces the small bones from his fingers to his wrist.

“You fought, and you came with me to Scotland, and-- fuck, I’m sorry, I’m sorry for ever thinking you were anything less than amazing and brave, _Martin_ …”

They stay like that for a few more moments, feeling the weight of each other. 

Eventually, Martin smiles sheepishly. “It wasn’t _all_ about wanting to be cool.” He rubs the back of his neck again. “Honestly, a lot of it was wanting to see the look on Elias’ face when he realized what I was doing. I thought he was going to pop a blood vessel…”

“Would’ve been better for all of us if he had,” Jon mutters sourly.

“Yes, well...between him, and those damned statements sucking the life out of us every time we read one, I’d been feeling rather itchy to set a few on fire for quite a while…”

At the mention of reading statements, Jon’s stomach doesn’t quite growl, exactly, but something inside him gives a familiar twinge. His hand tightens involuntarily around Martin’s.

“Sorry,” Martin whispers. “Shouldn’t have mentioned--”

“My fault,” Jon says. “I brought it up.” He kisses Martin firmly, pushing away the memories of that night, and his nagging hunger for statements, and the lurking fear that his humanity is slowly slipping away. One of the _very_ few good things that the Magnus Institute has given Jon is an incredible ability to compartmentalize. He puts his hand on Martin’s cheek, cupping his face, bringing their foreheads together. Martin kisses him back, putting his hand atop Jon’s, leaning into it. 

Eventually, Jon breaks the kiss, nudging his head into one of the hands cupping his face. Martin chuckles, placing his hand back in Jon’s hair and resuming his gentle scratch. Jon gives a soft sigh, leaning into Martin’s shoulder.

“Can’t believe I’m dating an _arsonist_ ,” he murmurs.

“ _I_ can’t believe I’m dating a cat,” Martin replies. “You’re practically _purring_ right now, you know--”

Jon scowls at him.

“--case in point. I know you’re glaring at me. If you had fur, it’d be standing on end.”

Jon wants to sit up to give Martin a proper glower, but to do that, he’d need to sit up, and that would mean removing himself from Martin’s touch. So he settles for a disgruntled “ _hmph_ ”, making Martin chuckle again. 

Outside, the wind is blowing, and Jon can feel the Eye roving. In the morning, he’ll have to face the incessant hunger for statements clawing inside him. But for now, he can pretend that he’s normal again, like the two of them aren’t marked by forces of darkness that want nothing more than to use them and break them. Tonight they can just be Jon and Martin, in love, holding and being held. When Jon starts to shiver from the cool night air blowing through the window, Martin pulls the blanket back up, and they curl up underneath: warm, safe, together.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr: [digital-waterfall](http://digital-waterfall.tumblr.com/)!


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